


"The House in the Cornfield" - [A Chris Evans Halloween story].

by A_Wolf



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: A.Wölf, F/M, Halloween, Tumblr: theartofimagining13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Wolf/pseuds/A_Wolf
Summary: A young woman moves into plantation owner Chris’ cornfield house after being hired as a housekeeper. No one knows why the crows fly in circles above it, but she’s about to find out.





	"The House in the Cornfield" - [A Chris Evans Halloween story].

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

**Originally posted at** : [The Art of Imagining](http://theartofimagining13.tumblr.com/).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**Ambience** :  _[Cornfield, crows, storm.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FWkr1lc3M5r8%3Ft%3D20s&t=ZTQxM2NkOTljN2M1YmYwZDE2MjEwNTBkM2JjZDE2MDRiMDNjZWU0ZixiWHBWa3F1Zg%3D%3D&b=t%3AzeG4skxCIV8hyNva5Yxu7A&p=http%3A%2F%2Ftheartofimagining13.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166994970607%2Fthe-house-in-the&m=1) (Play while reading)_

* * *

1920.

_No one knew why the crows flew in circles above the house in the cornfield._

The plantation was quiet. Being in the town outskirts, one could only hear the wind blowing through it and the leaves rustling, then as time went by, the cawing of a few crows. But the sun shone bright every morning and you could feel the dry warmth on your skin. As I ventured into the field, I heard a stake being pushed into the ground and nails being hammered into wood, and I followed the sound until I found the man I was looking for.

 _“Do scarecrows actually work?”_  I asked.

The plantation owner was squatting down and he turned his head and glanced up to meet my eyes before leaving the hammer on the ground to stand up. He took his dusty garden gloves off and wiped his right hand up and down his shirt.

 _“I guess we’ll find out”,_  he said while looking at the scarecrow he had just put up, _“Miss Adler?”_

I gave a nod with a shy smile as we shook hands.

 _“Evans. Chris Evans”,_  he added,  _“It’s very nice to meet you”._

_“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr.Evans”._

He was easy on the eyes, a tall and strong man in his mid-thirties with rough hands like every other field worker. We shared the same thick southern accent. However, I couldn’t help but notice a melancholic glint in his blue eyes. Mr.Evans eyed me from head to toe with a hint of a curious smile.

 _“Aren’t you a little young for this job?”_  He inquired.

_“I have two younger sisters to care for, sir. My father, he… he’s getting older”._

_“What does he do?”_

_“He works at Hindley’s, downtown. He’s a baker”._

He narrowed his eyes as he looked back at his house, then up at the sky.

_“And he’s okay with you stayin’ here for a while?”_

_“Do you own a telephone?”_

He nodded.

 _“Then as long as I stay in touch…”_ I said _._

 _“Come on then. I’m gonna show you around”,_ he said as he started for the house,  _“Looks like it’s gonna rain”._

When the wind intensified and whistled, and the clouds turned gray, it was a bad augury, and I should’ve listened.

* * *

 _“I spend most of the day working in the field by myself. It needs to be ready for spring”,_ Mr.Evans continued to explain as he led me upstairs,  _“I don’t ask for much. Just a clean house and a warm meal”._

I allowed my eyes to travel in every direction. The house wasn’t big but it wasn’t small either. Mostly made of wood. Creaking wood, I confirmed as we went up the stairs. There were spider webs and dust here and there, there was a pile of dishes in the kitchen and yet it looked abandoned despite the open box of Muffets Shredded Wheat and the milk bottle on the table, which had most likely gone bad already.

 _“This will be your room_ ”, he announced and motioned at it with his left hand,  _“You can go home on the weekends if you wish. Don’t have a problem with that”._

There on the second floor, a small staircase on the far end of the hallway caught my attention, and he noticed.

_“The whole house is yours. Just… stay away from the attic, all right? Mrs.Evans likes her privacy”._

I blinked several times. Upon entering this house, you’d think no one lived here. Not even the owner himself, let alone a woman. So why was the place so unkempt?

 _“Uh… Mrs.Evans?”_  I asked.

_“My wife. She… she’s sick. She sleeps most of the day. You don’t have to worry about her. I take care of her myself”._

_“Wh-why is she in the attic?”_ I asked, afraid that I might be prying.

 _“Oh, well…”_ He cleared his throat _. “We got the best room in the house. It’s got the fireplace”,_ he added with a smile,  _“God knows we need one in this damn winter”,_ his smile faded and he suddenly looked concerned, maybe embarrassed _, “Don’t worry though. I left enough blankets in your room”._

I refrained myself from asking more questions, for it was clear that Mr.Evans wasn’t comfortable with the topic judging by the way he had changed it. So I decided to let it go.

_“When do I start?”_

_“Tomorrow mornin’. Just get some rest now. Thunderstorms knock out the power sometimes. There’s candles in your room too”._

I gave a grateful nod.

_“Goodnight”._

_“Goodnight, Mr.Evans”._

I went into my bedroom but kept on listening as I shut the door.

 _“Hello, sweetheart”,_  I heard Mr.Evans greet as he went into the attic.

* * *

I had a very busy first week.

I got up a little after sunrise. On my first day, I cleaned the kitchen. On the second day, the laundry room. On the third day, the living room. I’d finish my routine by cooking a nice meal for Mr.Evans to come home to around 4pm. While I was dusting the living room, I accidentally knocked over a picture frame from a small table. I picked it up and studied it. It was a wedding photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Evans. She looked beautiful and he looked happy. I wondered how long it had been and how she had gotten sick. I also asked myself if that was the cause for Mr.Evans’ evident sadness in his eyes.

On my fourth day, I did the laundry, and on the fifth one, I did some gardening. I realized as I looked at the cornfield that the scarecrow had worked but then wondered where the cawing was coming from. I stepped outside the porch to see the crows flying in circles above the roof. Maybe they were waiting for the scarecrow to leave. The silly creatures. I was glad they were staying away from the corn. It’d be such a shame if they butchered Mr.Evans’ hard work.

I was excited to go home to my father and sisters that weekend, and let them know that I was doing well. The idea itself lifted my spirits, so I decided to bake an apple pie for Mr.Evans. While I was cooking in the kitchen, I heard a loud thud on the second floor. I thought Mr.Evans had come in and that I hadn’t noticed but I looked out the window and he was still in the field. I reached the bottom of the staircase and looked up, not knowing whether to go check on Mrs.Evans or not. But then I heard music coming from the attic in a low volume, and smiled to myself as I imagined fragile Mrs.Evans putting one of her favorite records on her phonograph. Perhaps she was feeling better. Perhaps I’d get to meet her one day.

* * *

The next week was much less hectic.

I just had to maintain the house clean, do the laundry once a week, and cook every day. I had enough time to sit and read in the living room while I waited for Mr.Evans. I was falling asleep on the couch one day when the loud sound of a door being banged shut made me jump. It was followed by footsteps on the second floor. I instinctively looked up at the ceiling and waited for another noise in vain. I slowly rose up but as I reached the stairs, I heard rushed and heavy footsteps headed towards the attic. I decided to go up there, made it to the dark wood door and hesitantly put my hand on the doorknob. It was locked.

 _“Mrs.Evans?”_  I called,  _“Are you all right?”_

But no one answered. I gently knocked.

_“Mrs.Evans?”_

I sighed and thought I should just go back to the living room, but as I walked past my bedroom, I stopped and stared in horror. My bed was unmade and my suitcase and clothes were scattered all over the floor. My heartbeat stuttered as I imagined an angry Mrs.Evans going through my things.

Did she know about me? Did she know I had been hired to help?

* * *

 _“Is your wife feeling any better?”_  I asked Mr.Evans while I served him beef stew that same evening.

He studied me in silence for what felt like a complete minute, and I felt the need to elaborate and rush my words.

 _“I just thought that maybe some of that apple pie I made would lift her spirits. There’s still some in the fridge”,_  I nervously said while forcing a smile.

 _“Her condition is… irreversible”,_  he mumbled with his blue eyes glued to the stew,  _“I told you, you don’t have to worry about her”._

 _“I just thought… well…”_  I stammered,  _“I think she was agitated the other day”._

_“Did you go up there?”_

He suddenly showed a somber expression which caused his blue eyes to darken.

_“No, sir. I just heard footsteps and thought-”_

But I trailed off when he let out an empty chuckle.

 _“Footsteps?”_  he echoed,  _“Miss Adler, my wife can’t walk”._

My lips parted but no sound came out while shivers went down my spine.

* * *

During the next few nights and days, I’d pretend to be asleep while Mr.Evans went to bed or got up, only to spy on him and discover that he’d lock the attic door from the inside, and he’d also lock it with a key he took with him before leaving every morning.

The cawing of the crows intensified outside and around the house.

* * *

I was folding clean sheets in my bedroom when I heard the attic door creaking open.

I tiptoed my way out of there but there was no one to be seen. I slowly approached the small staircase that led to the attic and I was startled when I realized that the door was still open; ajar. I only allowed my right eye to gingerly peek through it. There was a double size bed in the center of the room, and Mr.Evans hadn’t lied, there was in fact a small fireplace at the far end, near the window. However, it was without fire and I could feel how the temperature was oddly colder in there than the rest of the house. But in front of the fireplace, there was a red armchair facing it. I caught a glimpse of the top of Mrs.Evans’ head and a bit of her shoulder concealed by a white fabric, but I absentmindedly and carelessly pushed the door open and a sudden wind current banged it shut in my face almost causing me to stumble backwards.

 _“Mrs.Evans?”_  I called,  _“I’m your new housekeeper. I just wanted to let you know that-”_

But I trailed off as I put my hand on the doorknob and realized it was locked.

And when Mrs.Evans didn’t utter a word, I ran down the stairs and out of the house with an uneasy and inexplicable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 _“What’s going on?”_  Mr.Evans yelled as soon as he saw me.

I stopped in my tracks and forced a smile to face him. He was holding a shovel over his left shoulder.

 _“I-I’m going downtown”,_  I stuttered,  _“I’m making chicken noodle soup and I’m missing a few ingredients”._

 _“I can give you a ride in the truck”,_  he said while motioning at the black and red vehicle.

 _“No. I’d… I’d like to walk. It’s not that far”,_  I lied as I kept going forward, almost ignoring my boss.

* * *

For the first time in my life, I found being surrounded by strangers going about their day peaceful.

The loneliness and quietness of the cornfield house was starting to creep up my spine, and the enigma that was Mrs.Evans was making it worse. Taking a walk downtown seemed to be the cure. Or so I thought…

I entered the small groceries and meat store, and took my time looking for ingredients. I was in no rush to go back. But then I remembered that I was working, that I had a meal to cook before 4pm. I grabbed my shopping basket with carrots, butter, and celery and placed it on the counter; the old, white-haired Mrs.Betty Bleeker stood behind it, and she wore the warmest smile when she saw me.

 _“Oh my stars. My dear. Long time no see”,_  she exclaimed.

_“How are you Mrs.Bleeker?”_

_“I’m fine but you lookin’ pale as a ghost”,_  she started bagging my items,  _“You comin’ down with a cold?”_

_“No. It’s just a soup kind of day”._

_“Your father still at Hindley’s? He better not forget to bring a nice loaf of bread to accompany it”._

_“I’m not cookin’ for him. You see, I’m a housekeeper now”._

She froze, narrowed her eyes and re-adjusted her glasses while studying me.

_“A housekeeper?”_

_“Yes. At the cornfield house”._

_“With Chrissy?”_

_“Mr.Evans. Yes. You know him?”_

_“Ah, he’s a wonderful boy! I have not seen him in a while”_ , she sighed and her tone turned serious,  _“He’s been holed up in that house. Can’t blame him. Not after the tragedy. Poor thing”._

 _“Tragedy?”_ I inquired.

_“Yes. He was going to marry. Well, technically he did but… now it’s just a horrible memory for Chrissy”._

_“What happened?”_ I tried not to sound like I was hurrying her to tell me.

_“The wife. She… there was somethin’ hidden in her wedding dress. It stung her. When she started feelin’ weak and sweaty, she thought she was just nervous like any other bride. She dropped dead right after sayin’ ‘I do’. An instant widower. At such a young age. No one ever knew what stung her”._

My whole body broke out in goose flesh. I could not even blink. Mrs.Betty Bleeker kept on talking but I had gone deaf. I put a few coins on the counter, grabbed the paper bag and left in a hurry, in a daze, in confusion, in terror.

* * *

When I arrived at the cornfield, Mr.Evans was looking up at the sky with furrowed eyebrows.

There were twice as many crows cawing and flying over the roof. Suddenly, a few of them crashed repeatedly into the attic window, trying to break in. My grocery bag slipped from my hands and hit the ground as Mr.Evans sprinted into the house, and I followed. As he rushed up the stairs, I heard glass breaking. When I caught up with him, he had just unlocked and entered the attic. I walked in and my blood ran cold. Dozens of crows were hovering over the bed and pecking Mrs.Evans’ rotting corpse, still in her wedding gown. The widower ran towards her and tried to scare off the scavenger creatures feeding off his dead wife there on the bed he shared with her every night. And he held onto her body for dear life like a human shield, but that didn’t stop the famished and frenzied birds from attacking him too, violently pecking his back.

As I, trembling, took a step back, a crow pecked one of the bride’s eyes off.


End file.
